


Daring, Courage

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Gen, Reichenbach Falls, Reichenbach Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4496445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes observes the clump of flowers, and derives meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daring, Courage

**Author's Note:**

> Written for JWP Amnesty Prompt #1: Une fleur des montagnes.  
> Warnings: Reichenbach angst (like you're surprised). And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.

I saw the scraggly clump of white flowers as I desperately scrambled up the cliff face, the roar of the Falls duelling with the thundering of my pulse in my ears. The flowers clung there, growing out of a crack in the rock scarcely wide enough to hold a piece of paper.  
  
A sign of hope, life growing where it seemed impossible? Or a sign of fatal weakness in the rock face, warning me away from grasping at the promise of a handhold?  
  
Foolishness. Fantasy. But better thinking of that than my trembling muscles, or remembering the screams of Professor Moriarty as he fell.  
  
_Edelweiss_. I remembered the name of the flower once I had regained my breath, sprawled on the narrow ledge that was life and respite to me. One of the hoteliers had named it to Watson when he’d asked a few days ago, rhapsodized about it. Among other things, he’d claimed it represented daring and courage.  
  
My climb had been daring, in the narrowest meaning of the term, but not an act of bravery. True bravery would require taking a course other than the one I had decided upon in a flash, there at the Falls. It was logical, and daring, and could well end in my death; but not brave.  
  
Bravery belonged to another. I watched him as he came running up to the precipice; I saw him read the letter I had left for him. I heard him shouting for me.  
  
“Courage, Watson,” I whispered, knowing he could not hear me. I could give him no other reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted August 3, 2015


End file.
